Things That Go Rip In The Night
by Zamael
Summary: There are some things that just can't be measured in any monetary value. That won't stop some people from trying.
1. Chapter 1

The moon was full, casting its silvery glow over the pirate ship anchored on the shores of a small and insignificant island. It was dead of night - even though the darkness that usually reigned these seas (both literally and metaphorically) was thwarted by the moon, and the all-consuming silence would be cast away by the horrible, loud snoring, as soon as you stepped too close to the brigantine. Because truly, at nights like these, all the decent people, pirates or not, would be fast asleep.

The operative word being _decent._

Within the ship, beyond the reach of the moon, it was dark. The tiny creaking of an opening door went perfectly unheard under the incessant snoring heard from the room (even if there had been someone to hear it, and there wasn't), and the sight of a humanoid figure swiftly passing by went unseen under the darkness covering all (not that there would have been anyone to see it). From the deck, now revealed to the moon, he went straight upstairs, passed the main mast, and finally stopped in front of the door at the very back of the ship. He stopped there for a moment, gathering his thoughts, straightening himself, before finally knocking the door. It was opened moments later, followed by several seconds of extremely awkward silence.

Then, a beautiful female voice said: "While it is a very flattering thought that I was persuaded to stay at the library for the night just so that you could visit me with naughty intentions, captain, I think you want the room on the opposite, one floor down."

This amusing mistake told much about under what kind of command the particular pirate crew went. As its resident archeologist closed the door and went back to her reading, the amorous captain did as was instructed, stopping in front of another door, and, impatient and unwilling to wait any longer, knocked immediately.

His jaw dropped, quite literally, all the way to the deck, as the door opened almost instantly. The room itself behind was dark, but the moon revealed quite clearly what was now standing on the doorway, and what she was wearing (much less than normally, might I add), making his heart beat significantly faster than their doctor would have recommended. Moments later, his very sensitive nose was assaulted by a very special smell: It was that of very rare, very expensive, and very very inviting and seductive perfume, imported straight from West Blue, the kind that would fill the heads - and pants - of grown men with very inappropriate thoughts, and make children ask very awkward questions from any nearby adult. (That was a lot of very there.) The final attack came barely a second later, when her hand raised and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him with her inside. He made no resistance or objections.

The door closed. What was heard from outside - had there been anyone to hear - was giggling, laughter, and some rather rude words that one might expect hearing from a shady pirate bar on a strip-tease night. Then it stopped, only to be replaced by an occasional moan, a single high-pitched whine, and a loud thud of two bodies falling against either floor or wall - the details were rather unclear on this particular part.

And then, there was a very distinctive sound of an expensive Fishman Island clothing being ripped apart. It was followed by a loud shriek, containing equal amounts of anger and lust, two emotions that usually don't go very well together.

"You just ripped my shirt!"

"That I did." The voice clearly stated that the man saying it was not regretting his deed in the slightest, although the other person thought that he should. It was followed by a chortle.

"It was very expensive!"

"I'll buy you a new one."

Laughter, coming from rather a feminine source. "You don't have any money of your own! It all comes from me."

A short silence, after which the same voice added: "And most of it goes to meat."

"Oh. Right, um..."

"Look, how about I just ripped your hat in two and we called it even?"

Silence fell in the small room. "I was joking," she finally said.

"I know. It was a very bad joke." This was followed by roaring laughter when he added that she actually looked much better _without_ the particular shirt.

One would imagine that there was no nightly sound coming from that ship that could ever stifle all that snoring. One would be proven wrong very soon afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

"So... You owe me 120,000 berries now."

"What? How much money do you spend on shirts?"

"Oh, the shirt was just 20 grand... The rest is for the Happiness Punch, remember?"

"Oh..." The two lay there in silence, embracing each other. Then...

"Whore."

Nami sighed audibly. She would have been a fool to expect any sort of tact from this man, whether she was sleeping with him or not.

"I prefer the term courtesan, thank you very much!"

They had some truly weird pillow-talk sometimes.


End file.
